


It Ain't Over Til The World Ends

by Lucifuge5



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy reflects on this thing he shares with Joe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Ain't Over Til The World Ends

**Author's Note:**

> I watched "Hard Core Logo" the other night because of the yummy that is Callum Keith Rennie. Afterwards, both his (Billy Tallent) and Hugh Dillon (Joe Dick)'s characters would not let me be until I could pen something about them. Totally unbetaed so, this is me with my bad grammar. Sorry. The opening line is from Skinny Puppy's "Goneja".

_Dark this heavy past tension over talking_.

One more time. One more fucking tour. Five gigs and a band of yahoos. "What the fuck could I have been thinking?" Billy Tallent asks the door while inserting the plastic key in the slot and waiting for the light to turn green. He enters the room. "Oh, that's right. Joe." Closes the door. "Fucker."

Billy has won tonight's room lotto which means he has a small and painfully generic but, clean room all to his lovely,punky, almost-sellout self. This is not a five, four or even two-star hotel. The walls are light blue, the carpet is dark green and the bedspread is the usual rose pattern one. Sigh. It is not as if he has officially joined Jenifur and can begin to partake of the benefits of a completely successful money-fucking-making band. "Fuck it, at least I'm not sleeping in the van tonight."

Stinking of smokes, sweat and Joe's spit, he strips in the bathroom feeling grateful, goddamm grateful he can have some hours of total quiet. The combined high from performing with HCL and all those damn beers is beginning to dissipate into a pleasant buzz as he turns the shower on and lets cold then nearly boiling hot water plaster his previously spiky blond hair to his head. He cleans up, rummages through his black duffel bag and slips one of Joe's old t-shirts over his pale and wiry body. A memento from the last time they were touring all those years ago. He flirts with the idea of having one last ciggie before going to sleep, but ends up passing out as soon as he gets comfortable.

Billy wakes up some time past dawn but before noon. As he stretches while silently yawning, he is amused but not surprised to find Joe comfortably snoring up a storm, curled up but at peace, in his bed under the fucking covers like a pre-arranged invitation. All the fuck-off swagger has been tamed for a bit while Joe rides the train in Snoozeville. His black Mowhawk has fallen to the side and Billy is tempted to run his fingers through it.

He looks at Joe and thinks back on all the history, all the fucking epic pain and love and loss and madness that encompasses his and Joe's relationship. He is waiting for something to shift inside of him and nudge him into kicking Joe out. His heart continues to beat but nothing prompts him. Quietly, he admits he is comforted by the warmth emanating from**_ his _**Joe's body next to him. He watches, not really knowing whether anything will happen after all these years, not hoping, just watching. _Waiting_.

He wants to taste those feral lips until they are bloody. He knows Joe would get off on that. Mauling a shoulder, pulling a nipple, leaving hickeys on Joe's inner thighs are all fair...hell, even expected. He can still remember the morning after the first time they had gone to bed. The bruises lasted **_for days_**. Out of the two, it was Joe who looked as if something truly wild had caught him between powerful, near-prehistoric jaws. Bite marks and some serious-looking scratches marred his chest and back. Billy knew Joe loved every single one of those angry red lines, was proud of them even. "Had us a wild time with a groupie, eh Joe?" Pipe joked while twirling the drumsticks. Out of the corner of his left eye he could see Joe chuckling while lighting a ciggie. Billy smiled and shook his head as he continued tuning up his guitar...As it was, the playful aggressiveness between them only amplified their love as well as their sexual interludes. There had been stolen kisses and longing glances throughout the years. However, theirs had not been nor would ever be a teddy bear and roses pairing. Thorns, spit, and fisticuffs maybe. Rudeness and hungry, dirty kisses most definitely. Valentine's Day scurried off towards the land of cliches.

Joe opens up his eyes slowly, blue eyes on a slow burn. He exhales, full of of calm. Billy looks back, not defiant in the least, all-knowing steely blue eyes. This can be fun. Joe stares back at him with what most people would consider a blank expression. Billy knows better. He can see (feel?) a small, shy, near impish smile approaching the surface.

"Billiam." (half-snarled, half-teasing)

"Mine." (a whisper)


End file.
